Pineapple Teriyaki
by hongkongstar
Summary: Kink Meme fic. Prompt: AxelRoxas, Steak & BJ. AU, PYT verse.


Roxas likes his steak bloody. Seared closed on the outside, warm and soft on the inside. He cuts it carefully into thin strips, putting them in his mouth, and then there's a moment before he starts chewing, as if he's letting the meat melt on his tongue. Roxas never mixes his food – he eats each thing separate from the other, divided on his plate an order unknown to anyone but him. The steak is all that's left now, leaving bloody streaks on the plate as he spears another piece. Axel watches his lips close around the fork again; the metal drawing away from his lower lip, the moment of carefully concealed pleasure, and then his jaw muscles moving smoothly beneath his skin as he starts chewing.

Axel tries to fight down a grin and loses. He manages to restrain it to a brief upturning of lips, bringing up his beer in an attempt to hide it. But it's too late; Roxas' eyes are sharp with suspicion as he swallows, uses his napkin to wipe away a thin trail of runny blood from the corner of his mouth.

"So what is all this for, then," he says, waving his fork at the table between them.

Axel affects a wounded look, but he knows it doesn't sit right across his features. "Rox," he says. "I cook you a meal out of the goodness of my heart and you think I have alternative motives? I'm hurt. Deeply."

Roxas takes a sip of his wine, a deep red cabernet sauvignon that Axel just grabbed out of the cupboard and didn't even bother checking the label before he put it out on the table. It was red. Red went with steak. Besides what colour went with what food, he didn't care to know much about wine. Roxas had seemed pleased though, relishing the wine as much as the steak. Now he sets the empty wine glass down with a quiet chink on the varnished wood of the tabletop. "Axel," he says. "You _always_ cook. But you _don't_ always sit there watching me eat like _I'm_ whatever masterful concoction you've managed to create this time. So, fucking spill it already."

Axel grins. "March," he says, grin sliding wider. "Fourteenth." He draws out the syllables of 'fourteenth' slowly, so the rage has sparked in Roxas' eyes long before he's even managed to finish saying it.

"Oh," says Roxas, hands gripping the table like maybe he might push away abruptly, or maybe he might just push the table over into Axel instead. "You fucking piss slit."

Axel deems not to answer; instead, he pushes his chair back smoothly from the table, letting his back slide down into a slouch and spreading his thighs wide. "I love watching you eat," he says, his voice dropping down so low that it sounds like it's coming from somewhere in his stomach. "Been _aching_ since you started on the fries." He rubs one hand over his crotch, watching as Roxas' brilliant baby-blues widen slightly, flicking down from his face to his hand and back up again.

He'd eaten the fries individually, spearing each one carefully with the fork and then biting them in half with a precise closure of perfect, straight white teeth, chewing briefly before swallowing. Then he'd brought the other half of the fry to his mouth, fork sliding in and lips closing over it, before drawing out slowly, the metal catching reflections against his mouth. Then the whole process had started over again. Axel had squirmed in his seat, subtlely shifting position every now and then, sure Roxas would realise at any moment and the whole plan would be ruined. Roxas had to finish the steak before he found out. That was the deal. But his cock didn't agree, jeans getting steadily tighter with each devoured fry.

Finally, Roxas pushes away from the table; eyes hard and glaring again as he walks around to stand between Axel's splayed thighs. "You're going to pay for this," he says, leaning down close over Axel, hands braced on his shoulders. Axel arches up quickly and catches his mouth, biting at his lower lip and coming away with the sweet warmth of the wine on his tongue. "Looking forward to it," he says, voice breaking husky in his throat.

Roxas sinks down to his knees, slowly, hands sliding along Axel's thighs until they curve over the shape of his cock, trapped tight in his jeans. He hisses, arches up into the too-gentle press, and Roxas flips the button, draws the zipper down, the teeth clicking apart, one by one. His hands are warm as they slide Axel's cock free, already throbbing and leaking thin drizzles of pre-come as Roxas' fingers drift feather light over it.

"Stop teasing," Axel says, thrusting up against Roxas' hand. Roxas' face flickers with disdain, but his hand closes more solidly over the base of Axel's cock; he leans forward, breath coming cool over the head of Axel's cock.

"I hate this," he says, there, poised with Axel's cock millimetres from his lips. "I didn't even _want_ the fucking steak."

"Shut _up_," Axel snarls, sinking his hand into Roxas' hair and pulling him forward, hips thrusting up and yes, yes, _finally_.

Roxas' lips, slick and wet, sliding down as he pushes himself up, further into that hot, perfect mouth. His tongue barely moves, just pushing slightly against the underside of Axel's cock, and he glares up at Axel through his hair as Axel forces him down, down. His teeth catch, and Axel hisses, thrusts up, hand twisting harsher in his hair.

Roxas just carries on glaring at him, making some sort of attempt to talk around the cock in his mouth, and that just makes Axel arch again, thrusting in and out between his slack lips, against his motionless tongue. He's been too hard for too long now, watching Roxas' mouth across the table, knowing what having Roxas on his knees would look like, cock stuffing his throat, and he's throbbing with it, the wet heat of Roxas' mouth pushing him closer and closer with absolutely no effort.

Roxas' hands push against his thighs, blue eyes watering, but he just tightens his hold and jerks Roxas' head forward again, hitting the back of his throat and feeling as it constricts in spasms over the head of his cock. His spine tightens, hot electric, hips arching up erratically. His hold in Roxas' hair loosens and he jerks free abruptly, pulling back and coughing. A long string of saliva hangs wet between his abused mouth and Axel's cock, and as it snaps, Axel loses it, heat convulsing deep into his muscles.

He comes in ribbons all over Roxas' face, wet trails of spunk painted thick over his nose, cheeks, mouth, in his hair. His cock twitches again at the image, Roxas' baby-blues wide with surprise, face covered in his come, and another thin spill dribbles down over his jeans.

Finally spent, he slouches back into the chair, laughing quietly at the glare Roxas gives him. He reaches down lazily, wiping a sticky bead of his come across Roxas' lips with his thumb, pushing in and getting bitten bloody for his trouble. He just grins, the meaty pad of his thumb stuck stinging between Roxas' incisors.

"You have to admit," he says, jerking his hand free. "It was fucking good steak."

Roxas sneers at him and spits the taste of his cock from his mouth.


End file.
